


just wanna get a little bit closer

by harperuth



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Coming Untouched, Knotting, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Secret Identity, Special Operations, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, featuring Koko's OC everybody's favorite Sad Boi: Stereo Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:41:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21724129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harperuth/pseuds/harperuth
Summary: Jazz sighed, letting his own optics drag their way from the bar top to Stereo Dream’s, taking their time on the way up. It was gratifying to see that visor just a little brighter, “Tale as old as time, isn't it? Another broken spark at a bar?”-Or, Jazz takes Stereo Dream for a ride.
Relationships: Jazz (Transformers)/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KokoBean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KokoBean/gifts).



> thank you to Koko for letting me play so thoroughly with her boy. Stereo Dream was, pardon the pun, a dream to write and this was a lot of fun.
> 
> title is from 'want you in my room' by carly rae jepsen

It always comforted Jazz that a bar was a bar was a bar. 

Even now on the rising tide of a war he could walk into a mech slinging drinks and talking exhaust. Woes may enter, fights may break out, but it was hard to see a faction mark when you were optic deep in some good engex. 

Nowhere wasn't...quite that innocent. 

He had good intel, the best a bot could buy these days with the reputation he was still scrounging up as _Jazz_ , but he was still a little boggled when he caught sight of the interior. The lights and music and bodies were familiar enough, but there was an edge that cried out at Jazz, something that said _look, but don't touch_ while doing nothing but begging to be smudged. Just a bit. He shuffled up to the bar, taking careful care to run into a couple mechs on the way up, stammering apologies and cringing back as he did. 

A little bit sad, a little bit overwhelmed. Just to start. And then the game. 

It wasn't particularly imaginative as an opening gambit, but it never needed to be. Spec Ops newbies had no sense of subtlety anymore. He slipped into a newly opened seat at the ever shifting bar top, and slipped fully into this version himself. 

He hunched, flitting his gaze up and down. To the outside eye he was nervous, perhaps anxious and unsure of what to order. Really he was trying to find the most inconspicuous way into a back room, to get beyond the protected club walls and at that signal that had been bugging Prowler for ages. And when you needed an Op for signals, you sent Jazz. 

He didn't jump when a brilliantly pink drink was dropped in front of him. Well, Jazz didn't. Shadow jerked back and blushed just enough at the gorgeous mech behind the bar. 

“Something sweet for the cutest little bit that's been at my high top in a while,” The mech’s voice was smooth, with just enough lilt to draw Jazz into its song, “Gotta name or should I just keep calling you Sweetling?”

“Might not always answer to Sweetling,” Jazz smiled, wobbly and shy, “But m’pretty good with Shadow.”

“Pretty’s certainly right,” The light behind his visor rolled just a little, brightening, and Jazz squirmed and turned the blush up. The mech offered a servo, “Stereo Dream.”

Jazz took the servo and giggled when his own was stretched up just a little for a kiss to be brushed across the tips of his digits. Jazz dropped his gaze when Stereo Dream’s visor light winked, “Why so glum, sweetspark? I hate to see sad optics on such a gorgeous frame.”

Jazz sighed, letting his own optics drag their way from the bar top to Stereo Dream’s, taking their time on the way up. It was gratifying to see that visor just a little brighter, “Tale as old as time, isn't it? Another broken spark at a bar?”

Jazz ex-vented, tightening his servo around Stereo Dream’s, “I just...I really thought he was gonna work out...which seems silly now, out on my aft with barely a ‘thanks for the good fragging.’”

Stereo Dream dropped his elbows to the bar and ran a digit down the back of Jazz’s servo, “Now sweetspark, how good are we talking here?”

“Oh Primus,” Jazz pulled Shadow a little tighter to him, blushing as hard as he was able, “I didn't mean to say that.”

“Mm, but it's out there now,” Stereo Dream tipped his visor up with his other servo and winked a brilliant amber-orange optic, “Gotta say though, you don't look sparkbroken enough for the fragging to have been _that_ good.”

Jazz took a sip of his drink for a moment to think. Dreamer here was giving him a run for his money, and the Op had just changed completely. There was a flashing light peeking out behind his dental plates that Jazz had to admit was more than a little enticing, and what better reason could he have for being behind closed doors for a _while_? Jazz glanced up from under his optic ridges and smirked, just a little, “Primus knows I was trying, but there just wasn't a lot to work with.”

He shifted in his seat a little and let the smirk slide up into a sweet smile, “Sometimes a mech wants to _feel it_ the next day, ya know.”

Stereo Dream’s own smirk wobbled into a smile that was just this side of goofy, “Been in on that knowledge before...I’m more of a make ‘em feel it mech myself.”

Jazz bit his lip plate and let his gaze fall, following the line of Stereo Dream’s cockpit. His wings were shivering where they were held just so at his sides. Jazz tweaked the coding to start his fans spinning, “Yeah?”

He jumped as his lap was doused in his own drink. Stereo Dream looked _mortified_ , “Oh Primus, I'm— I didn’t mean— I’m so sorry. Let me get something to clean you up wi—”

Jazz laughed, careful to keep it far from mean, tightened the grip he still had on Stereo Dream’s servo, “I guess I’m as sweet as you keep calling me now.”

Stereo Dream's optics _glowed_ , and the goofy smile returned, if a little wobbly, “Sweet enough to eat.”

Jazz spun his fans faster and stammered, “You— Shush mech, now you're the sweet one.”

“You know,” Stereo Dream’s visor was still up, and his optics flicked somewhere behind Jazz, he was pretty sure the door, “They say the best way to get over a mech is to get under another one.”

Jazz burst out laughing, “Primus, come here, that alone--” 

He scrambled up onto the bar, and mechs were definitely jeering at them, but he didn’t even care. Jazz had ‘faced a lot of mechs, under all sorts of names and circumstances, but he’d never had any mech be quite as cheesily earnest and he was willing to admit that he was more than a little charmed. His knee slipped and for a moment he thought he might fall, but Stereo Dream caught him and yanked him up.

Jazz laughed again, as Stereo Dream lifted him over and onto the bar, “You better kiss me right fragging now.”

“How about a taste?” Stereo Dream winked and instead of leaning in to kiss Jazz, bent down to lick a charge crackling path from knee to array panel. For a second he forgot about the Op, the mech he was playing, and nearly popped his panel right there. But Shadow wouldn’t. Stereo Dream smirked up at him, venting frame warmed air over his panel, “You this sweet everywhere, baby?”

Jazz didn’t have to tweak any coding as his fans roared. The flush was all natural too, but this at least, was an in, “Not-- not out here, I can’t--”

He bit his lip plate and rubbed his thighs together.

“Let’s get you cleaned up in the back,” Stereo Dream’s vocalizer was a nice tenor, but it had deepened to a husky hum. Jazz giggled and let Stereo Dream pick him up. He hid his face against his chassis and let his hips roll forward just a _little_. He giggled again when Stereo Dream’s steps faltered.

A door opened and shut, and Jazz was inundated with the sudden presence of the signal that had been tantalizing them for cycles. He dropped a flurry of tags that wouldn’t show up unless you were looking for them specifically and tried to trace a little more before he got, uh, distracted.

His back struts met the wall, and two large servos cupped his aft and _lifted_. Jazz squeaked. Stereo Dream chuckled, “Legs over my shoulders sweetspark.”

“Oh frag,” Jazz whispered, arranging himself as best he could. Stereo Dream’s glossa lapped its way up his thighs, clearing away sticky rivulets of pink engex. He gave a long, lingering lick to Jazz’s panel. Jazz whined at the scraping line that had to be a mod.

“Gonna open up Sweetling?” Stereo’s optics flickered back online to peer up at him. Jazz was sure he looked a picture, panting and wide-opticked. 

He retracted his panel.

Jazz’s helm thunked back against the wall when Stereo moaned, deep and long, like it was his array about to be polished. He offlined his optics, pushing his array forward in an aborted twitch, “Thought you were gonna make me feel it.”

Stereo Dream invented and moaned again, “Feel it, not break it. You want to be nice and ready for me, don’t ya?”

Well at least he’d be busy. Jazz forced another giggle and relaxed. He had enough mods and experience that he could take Dreamer with no problem. Spec Ops and a checkered history had ensured that his valve was ready for pretty much anything. But it wasn’t exactly suffering to have a hot and evidently into it glossa run across his array, “Knock yourself out. Or me. Whatever wor-- _oh_ Primus.”

Jazz let all his struts melt at the contact, enjoying the tightening of Stereo Dream’s servos on his hips. He felt a brief bit of sizzling charge jump through his array, and yeah that definitely, “Fancy-- _oh_ \-- fancy mod you got there-- _ah_!”

Jazz onlined his optics and Stereo Dream grinned up at him, glossa still firmly entangled in Jazz’s array. Jazz quirked a grin, reaching a servo out to trace around his optical ridge, before grabbing a bit of helm faring and pulling him more firmly onto his array, “Get after it then.”

Stereo Dream’s glossa swiped broad and flat across the entirety of his array, the charge crackling through the hard nubbin of the mod installed in just the right spot to hit Jazz’s node with each upward drag. His glossa flirted briefly with the edges of his valve, and Jazz tugged on his helm again, a low growl building in his engine. Stereo Dream moaned right up against him and Jazz rolled up into the vibration, hissing when his glossa finally pushed in past the first ring of calipers.

It wasn’t just the mod that was conducting charge.

Jazz gasped when Stereo Dream’s glossa _kept pushing_ in and in, until his lip plates met Jazz’s array. Said plates that dumped charge across his array. Jazz offlined his optics, “ _Really_ fancy-- hngh-- mod.”

Jazz let himself enjoy the experience for a few more kliks before dialling down his sensornet. The head was fine, really, but it was also a prime time to search out that signal output. He latched on to the tags he dropped earlier and dove in the stream. He made sure his secondary routines were running an appreciative interface reception. Not that the charge wasn’t still building, but it was a little easier to run an Op when he wasn’t _feeling_ the charge.

The source of the signal was easy enough, he was inside finally. He pinpointed it to the exact placement of the output in Nowhere, and switched his focus over to the _receiver_. The signal was going somewhere, but the nature of Nowhere had it appearing to fragment and disappear as soon as it hit the walls. End of the road. The signal from Nowhere that went nowhere.

It was beautifully constructed. Jazz burrowed deep in, past the initial layers that were _designed to fragment_. Color him impressed, there was a Con out there who was getting _clever_. Past those layers was a small filament of information, barely more than a coded pulse beacon letting out a string of binary. He latched on and rode.

Distantly, he could feel the combined lubricant of his array and Stereo’s orals running down his valve and to his aft. He knew the charge was starting to plateau, waiting for him to tune back into his sensornet and let it overload. His audials tagged the desperate groans and wet sounds coming from Stereo’s mouth. He followed the signal filament further, _just a little bit longer_. He turned up the secondary routines, letting his hips roll forward in a stuttering shy rhythm.

Shadow was all bitten off whimpers, aborted jerks into and away from sensation. Jazz, on the other hand, had just hit paydirt. He tagged the coordinates and pulled out carefully, wrapping everything he’d learned into a neat data packet, encrypted it, and sent it back to Prowl. 

He dialled back into his sensor net just in time for the show.

He moaned as the charge that had been racing across his plating finally connected to the pleasure centers in his processor, reflexively tightening every hold he had on Stereo Dream, pulling his face tightly against his array for another shy and aborted grind. Stereo’s servos on his hips tightened enough to run a bolt of pleasure-pain through him, as well as a blast of charge that came from Stereo. 

Jazz laughed helplessly, twisting in Stereo’s tightly locked hold enough to watch as his spike jumped, transfluid hitting the wall in several strong pulses.

Jazz felt his oral lubricant rush at the sight of that spike. He breathed, “You gotta be subspacing some mass Dreamer.”

Stereo Dream panted against his array, turning to mouth at an inner thigh seam, “Dreamer?”

Jazz squirmed and dropped Shadow from his processor abruptly. The Op was complete and now it was his turn, “Lemme down, I’m gettin’ acquainted with my new bes’ friend _immediately_.”

“Dreamer?” Stereo Dream repeated, leaning into lap at Jazz’s node again. 

“ _Ah_ , no, too close,” Jazz squirmed, pushing back at his helm, “I’m goin’ off around that beauty or not at all.”

“It’s really gonna be better for you if you overload at least once befo-- _mph_ ,” Stereo’s words were cut off as Jazz folded himself down and forward to _finally_ kiss him. Jazz shifted his servos, sliding one around to hold Stereo Dream still, the other thumbing at the hinge of his jaw, urging him to open. Stereo shuddered and Jazz licked into his mouth triumphantly, chasing the taste of his own lubricant and the zinging charge of the mod.

Jazz nipped at his lower lip plate as he drew away, engine purring, “I’m flexible.”

They dropped as Stereo Dream’s knees gave out.

Jazz yelped, and laughed again as his aft clanged down into Stereo Dream’s lap. The jolt reverberated up his valve and he shivered, pushing at Stereo’s cockpit, “Back, back, lay down.”

They were a jumble of limbs for a moment, navigating legs, arms, and wings in a small space, but Jazz ended up where he wanted, straddled over Stereo Dream with a servoful. Jazz ran his servo over the still fantastically pressurized spike and crooned, “Well, hel _lo_ beautiful.”

“Give a mech a complex,” Stereo was still dumping heat from his first overload, and Jazz winked at him as he ran a digit through the transfluid still clinging to his channel opening, “Ah, you plan on playing all night sweetspark?”

“Could be,” Jazz ran his digits down from the channel to the mod he had here too, “This do anythin’ fancy?”

“Could be,” Stereo parroted back, but Jazz snorted. He saw the way his wings were flaring, even laid out on his back like he was, and was carefully riding out the little thrusts of Stereo’s hips. Jazz continued his quest down, stopping and squeezing the swell through the middle of his spike with both servos.

“Do like this one,” Jazz relented his grip, leaning down to press a kiss to the swell. Stereo Dream groaned, and Jazz grinned at the sound of tires spinning and aborted thruster fire behind him, “Bet that feels real sweet all the way in, huh?”

“You’re a fraggin’ tease,” Stereo Dream gasped, but didn’t move to force Jazz to move. And wasn’t that just...something. Jazz’s engine revved, and he let the vibration travel out to his servos. Stereo Dream arched into the hum.

“And yer holdin’ out on me darlin’,” Jazz cooed as his digits grazed the base of Stereo Dream’s spike, taking in the barely perceptible pleating at the base of his spike, “I know _that_ mod.”

Stereo Dream squirmed a little, “It’s not-- I shouldn’t activate--”

“Mm,” Jazz pressed his spike up, shuffling forward so he was over top it, and ground his valve down onto the swell in the middle, “Why dontcha let me worry abou’ that.”

“ _Hah_ ,” Stereo’s wings scraped along the ground, and he bucked his hips up, but Jazz moved with him, keeping a steady warm pressure at the entrance of his valve. Stereo Dream’s servos came up and gripped Jazz’s thighs, “Sweetspark, I don’t mean anything by it, but you’re a little...smaller...than can usually handle my knot without a lot of work.”

Jazz pushed his weight up just a bit and caught the modded head of Stereo’s spike at his valve entrance. He hovered there for a second, waiting until Stereo Dream’s optics met his. He winked again, sinking down servo free until the head slid past the first ring of calipers. He sighed and twisted his hips in a circle, still hovering above Stereo, “I told ya,” Jazz slid down a bit further, until the swell in the middle of Stereo’s spike nudged at his valve entrance. He stopped, swiveling his hips again, “Lemme worry ‘bout it.”

He bore down, letting that swell push slowly past his entrance, savoring the stretch as it widened in the middle and pushed him open. Jazz hummed and sighed as each ring of calipers stretched over the swell, sinking until he couldn’t anymore. There was still a significant amount of spike outside his valve.

“Frag,” Stereo Dream swore, his servos tightening their grip on Jazz’s thighs, “You’re somethin’ else there Sweetling, but-- hngh-- I don’t think you’re gonna get at my knot tonight.”

Jazz laughed, pulling up until the swell was tugging at his valve entrance again, sinking back down, “No?”

And this time he kept sinking.

Jazz let his calipers spiral down hard, then up, transforming away and giving him room enough to take all of Stereo Dream. Stereo _wailed_ , a high note that Jazz hummed along with, starting a slow grind, enjoying the barely there nudge of that swell against what had previously been situated as his ceiling node. Stereo’s digits dug into his thighs, scoring the plating there where claws had popped. 

“We all got some tricks,” Jazz lifted and dropped just a fraction, moving that swell over a new ring of calipers, grinding again when he bottomed out. There was a nice little bit at the top of Dreamer’s spike housing that was doing pretty fantastic things to his node when he leaned forward just a little bit.

Stereo Dream’s engine revved, and Jazz could feel the heat dumping from his vents. But he gathered enough composure to shakily smirk at Jazz and said, “Don’t we?”

The bit Jazz was rubbing his node against swelled up just enough to meet him and started buzzing.

He jerked back. Or tried to. Stereo Dream’s spike head was suddenly pressed to his ceiling node with unerring precision, and it wasn’t moving. Neither was he. Charge surged through every receiving node in his valve, contracting his calipers tightly, rushing a new round of charge as the nodes stretched over his spike’s swell pressed in hard over their entire surfaces.

Jazz dropped forward onto his servos, digits spread over the panels on either side of Stereo’s cockpit. His mouth dropped open on a silent scream as the buzzing continued, absolutely relentless. His calipers cycled down, hugging that swell, pushing his ceiling node harder into the contact. He stared down at his servos, digits spread and twitching, stared at the biolights peeking out between them.

Charge gathered and washed through him, centered on his buzzing anterior node. Hie entire sensor net narrowed in on that single point of contact and Jazz couldn’t tell if his hips were rolling in effort to get away or closer. He hung on the building charge for a long moment, plating ruffling in time with the waves as they pulsed through him from his node.

His calipers cycled down once more, and his previously situated ceiling node tightened on the swell.

Jazz froze as the charge ripped through him, valve calipers contracting and releasing sporadically. His processor wiped for a long moment, enough to concern him when he finally reinitialized his routines. His audials tuned back in and tagged the whining pervading the room as coming from _him_.

Jazz gasped, hunching over. His calipers were still contracting at odd times, but the buzzing at his node had stopped. He shook his head, trying to reorient. He’d never had an overload that felt like a head injury before, and he’d interfaced more than his fair share. His audials finally came fully online again, and tuned themselves to the sound below him.

“--pretty when you overload, Sweetling, swear your optics flashed almost white, and you get so _quiet_ , it’s fraggin hotter than the Pits,” Stereo Dream was babbling, digits flexing and releasing on Jazz’s thighs, claws digging in, but his hips were still, “You back with me yet, Shadow? I’m good, you’re so good, Pits below, frag.”

“Ha,” Jazz breathed, trying to ride each twitch of his calipers, and each new wave of charge they brought. Stereo was like a super-conducter, and Jazz felt like he’d lost none of his charge to his overload, just bounced it to Stereo only to get it back in jolts, “Cute-- hngh-- cute trick you got there, babe.”

Jazz stilled his movements, with effort, and pushed up and forward. He mourned the loss of even a few nanomechanometers of spike, but it was worth it. He brushed his lip plates along Stereo Dream’s jaw, tracing the sharp line with soft lip plates. Stereo Dream continued to talk against him, “Not-- ah-- not a trick, just wanna make you feel good, you’re _so good_ , Sweetling.”

Jazz nipped at his chin, softly, following his own path back along Stereo’s jaw, stopping at the hinge and _digging_ his denta in. Stereo’s words petered off into a moan, and Jazz grinned around his bite. He relented enough to lick at Stereo’s audial, then purred, “Do _not_ do that slag again, Dreamer. I’m in charge now, and yer gonna do as I say with those pretty mods of yers, aren’t ya?”

Stereo Dream froze for a klik before a shiver wracked his plating from helm to pede. Jazz swore he could feel charge jump through the nodes in his valve, “Like that, huh Dreamer?”

Jazz backed off, seating himself firmly once more on Stereo’s spike. He circled his hips, enjoying the tug and drag of the spike across all his nodes. He kept the slow movement up, ticking away at his digits while he did, “Lemme see if we got them all. There was the magnet, and the buzzing, and that pretty little knot. I’m a big fan of the bit in the middle too, you can keep that up. Nevermind the oral mods. Hiding anything else from me, _sweetling_?”

“N-no,” Stereo Dream’s vocalizer was fuzzy with static.

“Good,” Jazz pushed up to reach his face again, nipping and sucking at Stereo’s lip plates while he panted, “Good mech.”

Stereo Dream shivered again, plating chiming. Jazz dug his denta in as Stereo’s wings flared out, scraping along the ground and bucking him up. Jazz licked out at the spot, soothing away the bite, “Now. Listen.”

He slid back down, and rather than start his circling grind up again, he used the motion to start a slow lift release, fragging himself on Stereo’s spike at a nice even rhythm, “We’re gonna do this at my pace, and yer gonna lay there and enjoy it, yeah?”

Stereo Dream trembled, his optics brightening to almost yellow, but they were locked on Jazz’s and that was the important bit, “Ye-yes.”

“I’ll let you know when,” Jazz paused as the mod at the head of Stereo’s spike caught a couple nodes that he hadn’t known were so _sensitive_. Granted, when he was taking someone Stereo’s size it was rarely for pleasure. Some mods were purely for self-preservation, but this was definitely an unexpected bonus, “Ha-- when yer participation will be needed.”

Jazz kept up the slow lift-drop, lift-drop, enjoying the swell of Stereo’s spike blowing his calipers wide and pressing each node like it was built for it. Jazz huffed a soft laugh, he supposed it was. He leaned back, rolling his hips into catching Stereo’s mod against those sensitive forward sitting nodes over and over, “Gotten a little-- _oh_ \-- a little quiet there, Dreamer.”

Jazz shuttered his optics and focused in on Stereo Dream’s face. His own optics were blown, glowing brightly, and entirely lost on Jazz. 

Jazz smirked, slowing his movements until that mod was scraping slowly, torturously over his nodes. He knew the pretty picture he painted, and he was sure the position, on his knees, back bent, hips forward, valve stretched around Stereo’s spike, meant that his anterior node was _right there_ , blinking in time with his movements and just begging to be touched.

Stereo Dream didn’t lift a digit.

“Someone trained you up real good,” Jazz panted, letting the charge swarm his processor for a moment. He leaned forward again, planting his servos to either side of Stereo’s cockpit, stilling his hips, “Your turn.”

Digits crept up his thighs and gripped his aft. Jazz’s routines, always prepped for vigilance, noted that his claws had retracted again. Trained. Well. In. Deed. Jazz let himself be lifted as Stereo’s thrusters scraped the floor, getting leverage. He thought he was prepared.

Stereo’s first thrust had him dropping to his elbow joints, forehead thunking down to his cockpit.

“ _Pitslag_ ,” Jazz hissed, calipers cycling down hard, charge jumping again, “Do that again.”

Stereo Dream kept it up. Jazz moaned and pressed sloppy kisses to his cockpit in appreciation. He cycled his calipers every time Stereo struck home, and saw stars when he nailed his ceiling node.

“Oh, Dreamer,” Jazz sighed, as the charge plateaued at a delicious height, dialling his sensornet up to the place he so rarely reached, where one touch could set him off the right way, but he was still in control, “You’re a gift.”

Stereo Dream didn’t say anything. Jazz struggled to bring his head up, propping his chin on his cockpit. Stereo’s optics were offline, and Jazz could see that the shaking wasn’t completely from his thrusts, but that his entire frame was wracked with fine tremors. His wings scraped the floor, trying to flare and draw in with nowhere to go in either direction. Heat was dumping off him with such fervor that Jazz’s temperature regulators registered the entire room as several degrees warmer than it had been when they entered.

“Stop,” Jazz said, and shivered as charge swept through him at the obedience. Close. Real close, and he was pretty positive that Dreamer was right there with him, “You wanna overload, Dreamer?”

Stereo Dream keened, his servos flexing. Jazz arched back into the pressure, and set off a new round of shivers for the both of them. He pushed himself up on shaky arm struts, gripping Stereo’s wrist joints, “Hold tight, and pull me down against ya, Dreamer.”

Stereo Dream’s digits dug into Jazz’s aft, but he did as ordered. Jazz hummed, rolling his hips a few times to enjoy how every caliper stretched, each node engaged and alit with charge. Stereo Dream yelped, plating chiming with how hard he was shaking. Jazz stilled, “So good, you’re doing real good Dreamer. Just a moment longer.”

Jazz searched through his processes as quickly as he could, with the charge buzzing and threatening to overwhelm them both. He found his hydraulics and released pressure in both his hips. He sunk down the barest nanomechanometer more, “Okay Dreamer, I need-- Primus-- I need you to engage that knot of yours.”

Stereo Dream’s optics onlined in a blaze of nearly white. He whined, shaking his head, his entire body shaking, “C-Ca-- C-Can’t--”

His vocalizer fizzled out into static. Jazz snuck his digits into the delicate struts and wiring of his wrist joints and squeezed, “Yes, you can.”

Stereo Dream’s mouth dropped open in a silent scream, and his servos dug into Jazz’s aft near to the point of pain, pulling him down as if there was any part of his spike that Jazz wasn’t taking. Jazz whined, unable to move into or away from the sensation with his hip hydraulics depressurized. His whine cut itself off into a gasp, when the lowest calipers in his valve started streaming in the information.

Stereo Dream’s knot engaged slowly, pressurizing in pulses, ensuring that Jazz’s nodes had enough time to register the sensation and acclimate, but not enough to come down from the charge that pulsed through with each stretch. It stretched, and stretched, and _stretched_ , and Jazz couldn’t move or think. 

Distantly, he heard himself babbling, “Good, good, it’s good Dreamer, so good.”

The stretch seemed to go on forever. Then suddenly it stopped. Jazz manually onlined his optics, shivering. Charge visibly jumped between every point of connection on his and Stereo Dream’s frames. They both shook, hung in the balance. Jazz made sure Stereo Dream was watching his face, then nodded and cycled his calipers down, squeezing hard at the knot.

Stereo came apart beautifully.

Jazz enjoyed it for the microseconds he was able to hang on himself: Stereo Dream’s optics flashed and offlined, his biolights flashed, his back bowed, headlights thrust up and flickered fitfully. Jazz heard a thruster pop behind him, smelled scorched metal. Just for half a moment.

Then the first jet of Stereo’s transfluid hit, missing his ceiling node, but sliding over those front facing nodes that were already a wracking mess. Jazz _yelled_ , falling forward once more, and yelled again when the movement tugged the knot against his valve entrance. Charge swallowed him, pushing every nascent thought from him. 

He could only ride the charge as it surged through, bouncing back and forth between the two of them with each new pulse of transfluid in his valve. The overload went on forever, and Jazz wanted nothing more than to stay here for the next several cycles.

But, Jazz was Jazz was Jazz, and even in the midst of the best overload of his life, his sensors were pinging. He pushed himself back up, shaking as the charge still crackled, trying to hone in on what his most basic, background subroutines were telling him. 

_Danger_ , Jazz thought, and sighed. He hadn’t lived this long ignoring his subroutines. 

A few more moments. He searched his processes, lost and jumbled in the wake of his overload, and repressurized his hip hydraulics, shivering at the tug on his valve entrance. Stereo stirred weakly, spike still pumping transfluid. His vocalizer slurred, spitting static, “Hey there, Sweetling.”

Jazz’s subroutines pushed at him urgently. There was danger coming, and it was coming now. He smiled a little sadly at Stereo Dream, reaching up to trace a digit down his jaw, “You’re a real good time Dreamer, I’m sorry about this.”

“What?” Stereo Dream struggled to push himself up to his elbows. Jazz figured his processor must be a mess of knotting protocols at the moment, and hoped he remembered his apology later, “Shadow, what are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Jazz braced his servos and invented slowly, exventing even slower, “This is gonna be a lot worse for you than it is for me, okay?”

A mech didn’t rebuild, reformat, and mod their valve as many times as Jazz had without learning the limits it could take. Stereo was good-sized, and the knot was bigger, but Jazz knew that, as much as this might hurt, he could do it.

“Real quick,” Jazz muttered, letting his vents settle into something even, before inventing sharply and wrenching himself up.

It was agony.

His valve entrance pinged dozens of error message and complaints in his HUD. Jazz grimaced, trying to focus. His subroutines urged him, and he dialled his sensornet down. He sat up from where he had crumpled to the side of Stereo Dream, who’d half turned with him, and was curled up in on himself now, sobbing.

“Oh Dreamer,” Jazz picked up an unresisting servo, and curled it as best he could around his spike, still pressurized and pushing out transfluid, “Squeeze down on the knot, okay? Should satisfy your protocols.”

Speaking of protocols, Jazz’s head whipped up as his subroutines very firmly pushed the danger warnings up to _routines_. He darted over to the door, slipping out and running when it creaked open far enough, dodging a grab from sharp digits. He shivered, interface routines still hot, when gold flashed in the corner of his optics, and claws scored his plating just the barest bit, nothing more than paint nanites getting caught.

He didn’t look back, just disappeared into the crowd, content to never be caught in Nowhere again.


	2. Chapter 2

Jazz didn’t bother waiting for security, just bypassed the lock himself and swept inside.

Mechs moved out of his path once they saw him, and he grinned, just a little meanly. It was nice to have a rep some days. He sauntered up to the bar, climbing up to stand in a hastily abandoned seat. One servo crept up to tap at his jaw consideringly, and he watched his grin widen in the mirrored bar back.

“You’ve got some bearings, coming back here,” Stereo’s visor flashed at Jazz, as he dropped a nauseatingly pink drink in front of him.

“Aw, don’t be like that Dreamer,” Jazz let his own visor roll in a wink, “An Op’s an Op. How many vorns has it been?”

Stereo Dream’s head turned just a bit, searching the room behind Jazz. Jazz didn’t flinch or let his smile drop. Stereo huffed, leaning on the bar to loom over him, “Yeah, sure sweetling, an op’s an op.”

“Came to make it up to ya,” Jazz purred, and pushed up onto the tips of his pedes. Stereo swayed in closer until they were almost nose to nose, “If ya were interested.”

“State your terms, Spy,” Stereo smirked and this close Jazz saw the barest shadow of his optics narrowing behind the visor.

“Remember that first time, Dreamer?” Jazz brought a servo up trace a line down Stereo Dream’s jaw, “Right here on the bar, and I had to say no?”

Stereo Dream’s jaw clenched hard under Jazz’s touch. He didn’t give an inch. Jazz’s smile ticked up just a bit more, a baring of denta now more than anything else. He let the sound of Nowhere at peak activity wash over them, “How about a re-do?”

Jazz laughed, a little manically, when he didn’t receive any answer beyond his back hitting the bar top. He propped himself up on his elbow, “Gonna do me good, Dreamer?”

Stereo Dream’s servo pressed to the center of his chassis, knocking him back down on the bar before settling back down the bar to frame Jazz's waist. Jazz laughed again, letting his head loll back, “Don’t be rotten, sweetspark.”

Stereo’s panel scraped against Jazz’s. He rolled his optics, “I know you can do better than that.”

“I certainly can,” Stereo said, “But I don’t think you’re sorry enough for that.”

Jazz rolled his hips up, lifting his arms to grip the opposite side of the bar for better leverage, “I can be sorry.”

“Sure,” Stereo Dream huffed, but Jazz could feel the panel under his heating. He didn’t really feel like playing, half-archived memories of the last time he’d gotten at Stereo’s spike flashing across his processor.

“No tricks, no mods,” Jazz said, arching his back and pushing the headlights of his new alt up, “Just a frag between ol’ buddies.”

“Is that what we are?” Stereo huffed, but Jazz heard the faint sounds of his fans clicking on over the pounding music.

“If ya want,” Jazz rolled the light behind his visor in another wink and let his panel transform away.

“You’re too easy, sweetling,” Stereo sighed, but it was softer, less aggressive, “Always were. Shoulda been the first clue.”

“Don’t be sore you missed the game,” Jazz smirked, rolling his newly exposed valve over Stereo’s panel, enjoying the heat of it, “I been playin’ longer than you’ve been online.”

“Get on with it!” Someone yelled, and Jazz slowed the roll of his hips purely out of spite.

“Your adoring audience really _adores_ , huh?” Jazz said.

Stereo growled at him, and his panel transformed away. His spike pushed out, half-pressurized, sliding through Jazz’s array.

“I really must be losing my touch,” Jazz sighed, “I fondly remember you overloading all over that wall, Dreamer. I treasure it, I do, kept me warm on some cold nights.”

“Is this what your like when you’re not playing a part?” Stereo’s visor light rolled, but his hips kept up their grind against Jazz, like they were newly forged mecha trying to figure out how arrays worked.

“Dreamer,” Jazz chided, enjoying the feel of that spike pressurizing slowly against his array. The grind _was_ good for letting that swell Jazz remembered _very_ well push against his node, “I’m always playing a role. Now, are we gonna chat all day, or are you gonna frag me like you mean it?”

“No mods?” Stereo asked, head of his spike flirting with Jazz’s valve entrance.

“No mods,” Jazz rolled his hips, trying to catch him, “C’mon, don’t tease.”

Stereo’s spike pushed in, second by aching second. Jazz sighed, cycling his calipers down onto him. Stereo kept pushing, stopping a few moments after that swell pushed past Jazz’s entrance, his spike head nudging Jazz’s ceiling node.

“No mods, huh,” Stereo huffed, and Jazz grinned at the ceiling. He rolled his hips, old memory files refreshing themselves with the new sensor input. Charge just started crackling over him.

“Gonna move?” Jazz asked, as the noise of the crowd around them started to swell, “I think your fans are getting ants-- _FRAG_!”

Stereo pulled out and slammed back in, and Jazz had forgotten how powerful he was. Triplechanger engine, he figured. He gripped harder at the bar, doing his best not to be pushed over the other side with each powerful thrust. 

It was just starting to get good, charge licking through his nodes and over his sensornet, when two things happened at once. 

Jazz’s subroutines flared, signalling danger, and Stereo Dream _dropped_ , catching himself on his elbows on the bar, jostling his spike in Jazz’s valve and changing the angle completely. Jazz yelped, bringing his head up to peer down. Over Stereo’s dropped shoulder was Spectre, staring Jazz down. 

Jazz moaned, his calipers tightening, a little bit charge, a little bit fear. 

Spectre was most of the reason he hadn’t been back to Nowhere until now. Jazz cycled his intake, inventing sharply when Stereo Dream squirmed, thrusting forward just a bit, before jerking back. Jazz let go of the bar, bringing his arms down to prop himself up on his elbows, “Hey, Ghostie.”

Spectre’s frown deepened. The noise of the crowd around them hushed. Jazz pushed all his bravado forward, smirking up at Spectre, “Come here often?”

Stereo whined, hips shoving forward and back again, fans clicking higher. Jazz’s optics flickered from him to Spectre and back, before it clicked, “If ya wanted some of this, all ya had to do was ask m’mech.”

Spectre leaned forward, letting his chassis lean on Stereo’s wing just a tad. Stereo let out a choked back sob, hips thrusting forward hard. Jazz invented sharply as he connected with his ceiling node, but kept his optics on Spectre’s visor.

Spectre’s mouth ticked up just barely, a smirk there and gone. His voice rumbled out, deeper than the Pit and smoother than high-grade, “I wonder if you can overload before he does.”

He leaned back, face and frame entirely impassive, but Stereo Dream _screamed_ , hips shoving back again. Jazz did his best to chase after him, but without his brace on the bar he didn’t have much leverage, and he wasn’t taking his optics off Spectre. 

Stereo Dream was _loud_ , hips jumping in a way that was just off rhythm enough to jolt Jazz rather than build his charge. Jazz didn’t let his smirk drop, rolling into the motions as best he could. His charge plateaued, and he grit his denta behind his smirk. Spectre leaned in and whispered something in Stereo’s audial. Jazz didn’t bother eavesdropping.

Jazz watched with narrowed optics as Sepctre’s shoulder hydraulics tensed, yanking Stereo Dream back by his valve. Stereo Dream cried out, and Jazz didn’t flinch at the feeling of transfluid spattering his array. He kept looking at Spectre, “Cute.”

Stereo Dream clattered to the floor, vents heaving. Jazz didn’t move, didn’t transform his panel back. Spectre gave him a long look, head to pede. Jazz’s plating ruffled, just barely. Spectre’s mouth ticked up in the corner, “That’s a good look for you, Jazz.”

Jazz didn’t react. Spectre’s mouth frowned again, “Now, get out.”

Jazz sat up slowly, peering down at Stereo Dream. Spectre’s digits caught under his jaw, tacky with lubricant, and tilted his head back up, “No.”

Jazz stared hard and slid back carefully, panel transforming back as he lowered himself over the edge of the bar, Spectre’s digits keeping his head lifted the entire time. His pedes touched the ground and Spectre’s thumb came up to grip his chin. Jazz froze.

“Tell Prowl I said hello,” Spectre rumbled, thumb swiping up to leave a streak of lubricant on Jazz’s bottom lip plate. Jazz shivered, plating chiming, reminding him of the charge that was still buzzing in his system with nowhere to go.

Spectre let him go. Jazz backed away through the crowd, turning tail once he was sufficiently out of Spectre’s sight line. He had a message to deliver.

**Author's Note:**

> stay tuned for a supplemental scene to make up for the, uh, sad ending, sorry.
> 
> follow me on twitter @floralpunkbarton for more yelling about robots


End file.
